It Had Better Be Tonight
by Okoriwadsworth
Summary: Oliver Queen. Laurel Lance. Fluff and Romance on a boat. Lauriver endgame.


It had better be tonight: Oliver Queen in a tux. Laurel Lance in a ballgown. On a boat in the high seas. Declarations are made. Asses are well and truly kicked. Love is in the air on the high seas.

"If you're ever gonna kiss me  
It had better be tonight  
While the mandolins are playing  
And stars are bright

If you've anything to tell me  
It had better be tonight  
Or somebody else may tell me  
And whisper the words just right."

(Author's note: In this universe, Laurel figures out Oliver's the Arrow after episode 2 of Season 1. He doesn't tell her. She just puts it together, and he confesses when he asks. Also, Felicity is brought in along with Diggle much earlier.)

_**Present Day**_

Oliver Queen admitted, as he tied the bowtie to his tuxedo in his old room at the Queen Mansion, that there would be things that were markedly different about his wedding than just about everyone he knew before Lian Yu. For instance, he strongly doubted that Carter Bowen would be having security for his wedding. And if he was, it's not like the Flash, Superman, Supergirl, Speedy, the White Canary, and the League of Assassins were going to be the ones providing it.

But some things, of course, were the same. In just a little while, he would go out there with his brother, John Diggle, and stand in the backyard waiting to swear his heart, and soul, to the absolute love of his life. And then, in one of those things only a small number of people knew he could even _**DO**_, he would take the first dance and then sing his love's favorite song, the song that was playing the night he proposed.

As he stood there, sighing and trying to keep the unfamiliar feelings of nervousness at bay, he remembered how this whole thing began. And while at the time it was stressful, he wouldn't have had it any other way. He knows that now.

_**5 Years Ago,**_

_**OF COURSE. **_That was what Oliver Queen said to himself, as he felt the beginnings of a migraine. It couldn't just be that Jason McDaniel was in town. he was a gun-runner, drug dealer, human trafficker, and general all-around blight on humanity who needed to be brought to the kind of vicious justice he was capable of delivering. That couldn't ever be all there was. Honestly, if that was all it was, he wouldn't have the kind of headache he had at this moment.

See, he had a solution to this problem. Firstly, he knew his quarry was going to be on a yacht in international waters for a gambling night. And because the Arrow had a former Special Forces soldier, and a high-end hacker, as part of his recon team he had figured out the logistics of taking the yacht and making sure the gun-runner knew how foolish an idea it was to enter Starling City and NOT think he was going to come face-to-arrowhead with the Arrow.

It was the other half of the solution that he was finding the most stressful. Because, in order to do this, he had to take a date. Felicity knocked herself out of the running, because, quote-unquote, "Someone has to be here to run comms, and keep all the federal agencies unawares." Diggle, of course, was entirely busy being his bodyguard so that couldn't work. Who did that leave? Laurel. Who had found out he was the Arrow weeks ago. In fact, he hadn't even told her. He just said yes when she used her brains, and she hadn't been taking it well.

And to imply that she didn't take it well would be, honestly, an insult to people not taking things well. She just looked at him, her blue eyes focused on him as if seeing something she had never seen before. He assumed she was angry, so he left.

Now, and this is the part that scared him, Laurel wasn't angry anymore. He had plenty of experience with what it felt like when she got angry. His ears still rang in quiet memory about the time she discovered he hadn't actually been studying for his English exam like he said, and instead had been out partying with Tommy. But while her anger could be hot enough to heat an entire mansion, her being disappointed felt somehow worse.

And so, when he went to her office to explain the finer points of the plan, he was fully expecting the worst. Guns were in his mind, taking up equal space with the very real idea that Interpol officers, or the FBI, would be there.

Worse yet, he knew he deserved it. He didn't much mind lying to Thea. She was still coming to grips with having her brother back in her life, and protecting her from the monster he had become while he was away was absolutely paramount to him.

But Laurel? He couldn't have lied to her any more than he could have slit his own throat. And thinking about her, thinking about the way she looked at him with pity in her eyes when he finally told her what he had suffered through on the island, gave him a lump in his throat he couldn't dwell on for too long. So, he agreed to himself, if she needed to hate him for the rest of his life for the choice he had made, he would be ok with that.

This, of course, meant that when he walked into her office at CNRI, he was expecting to be greeted by men with guns, and badges. What was waiting for him instead was an utterly calm Laurel Lance, eating what looked like, to him, a pitifully small Cobb salad.

"Laurel? Are you doing alright?" said Oliver, not wanting to contemplate the notion that his confession of being the Arrow had somehow broken her.

"I'm fine, Mr. Queen. What do I owe the distinct pleasure of your company?" she said coolly, a tone of voice that both somehow made him nervous and heartbroken.

"I need your help, Laurel. Jason McDaniel is coming into town. He's a drug dealer, gun-runner, human trafficker, and all-around terrible person who's coming into Star City tonight for a big casino opening. I can get on the boat. I can take him out. But I need a date. I need someone to go with me to not make it look suspicious. Would you please go with me? I promise, after this, that you can do whatever you need to in order to make me pay penance for lying to you" begged Oliver, a roughness in his voice that he didn't even know he was capable of any longer.

"Oliver?" said Laurel, a tenderness and care coming back into her voice. "Did you think, seriously think, I wouldn't want to help you stop Jason McDaniel? Interpol hasn't been able to get him. Neither has the FBI. I'll do whatever you need done. And as far as you paying penance goes, we'll talk about that later."

Sighing and almost slumping into a chair, Oliver can't help himself and smiles at her before catching himself as he still knows she hates him and is only doing this because her need for justice is stronger than her need for revenge.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Ms. Lance. There's a few things we have to do before we're ready to go" said Oliver, getting up and walking out before she notices the lump in his throat or how hard he's finding it to look at her.

_**Present Day….**_

Turning his head to see John Diggle, one of his two brothers, standing in the doorway watching him put his suit together, Oliver Queen can't help but feel a pang of approval at seeing him and knowing the lengths he went to make sure that he would find his love. Sure, at first, it bothered him knowing what Diggle had been doing, but he couldn't stay mad at him for long.

After all, it really was a perfect date.

_**5 Years Ago,**_

As they both went down the stairs towards his lair underneath Verdant, it took every ounce of the considerable will and focus he had developed on Lian Yu to not hold her hand. But he knew he couldn't. No matter how he felt about her, he knew she hated him. She hated him for lying. She hated him for surviving when Sara didn't.

This feeling he had, this hope that somehow she could love him, was mere foolishness. And after she helped him put this one man away, after their unity for justice was done, he would surrender to whatever actions revenge guided her to take.

Despite knowing that, he still wanted to let her in. He got the sense that if she did what he was expecting, Felicity and Diggle would stop altogether. It didn't much matter if she knew where the lair was, if the Arrow didn't exist.

But as he walked alongside her, and then held the door open to let her walk inside, he noticed something. Something he didn't even expect to be looking for, but saw it as his awareness has been honed to as close to peak as any normal human could have it.

Laurel was wearing fishnets. Was this another way to set a trap, or just something she was doing because she was out of her usual stockings? Whatever it was, he steeled himself and refocused his attention. After all, there was a tentpole of the criminal underworld to be cracked.

"Well, this is it. This is where we do what we do to help the city" he said, allowing just a hint of pride to creep into his voice as to how well Felicity and Diggle have been doing before giving him a tour of everything from the world-class weight room to the armory where arrows get made and then tested out.

"Look. I know you hate me. You have every reason to. I was terrible to you before the island, and I've been just as bad since I got back. But we NEED to put this guy away. And after that, I promise I'll be out of your life" said Oliver, that lump in his throat growing in thickness as he looks at her for the very last time. He has to beat this, has to beat this gnawing sentiment telling him that he can have a life with her. Because he knows he can't.

And then, he notices her looking at him tenderly like she used to. Despite himself, despite the chill he hasn't noticed he's been filling for five years, he's starting to hope he could be wrong.

Standing up to an impressive 5-11 in her three-inch heels, she moves towards him.

And at that exact moment, Felicity Megan Smoak rushed into the room and the moment was gone.

"Laurel! You're Laurel right? Boy, it'd be weird if I was calling someone Laurel and it wasn't you. Wait, Oliver, are you here because we're doing the prep work for that yacht thing? Of course you're here for that. Why else would you be down here?" she babbled, impervious to the dropped jaws and icy stares behind her.

Flitting around, turning on their bleeding-edge computer tech and pulling up schematics of the luxury yacht that Oliver and Laurel will be raiding, Felicity smiles and turns around.

"So. This is Laurel? Wow, you really are as gorgeous as Oliver says. Anyway, here's the yacht. It's a million-dollar thing, and it's going to be at Starling City docks day after tomorrow. We've got a way in for you and Laurel, Oliver. We've even figured out how to get your bow in there. All we need is for you to be someone you used to be. That annoying playboy Oliver Queen" smiled Felicity, flipping her blonde hair out of her face.

_**Present Day….**_

Felicity meant well. Sure, her babbling was funny. And she gawked at his body every time he went on the salmon ladder, or did any sort of physical exercise that required him to have his shirt off. But, as he thought of it, he couldn't have broken that thaw without her. So, he supposed, if he had to listen to her babbling or good-naturedly suffer through her gawking at him as though she had never seen a shirtless man before, this was a price he was all too willing to pay.

_**5 years ago…**_

(Laurel's POV.)

What else did she have to do? She wore fishnets for him, because she knew how much he liked her legs. She smiled at him like he was the only person in the world whose opinion mattered to her. Because, and she didn't believe it took her this long to realize this, she had fallen right back in love with Oliver. And it took him being a vigilante to have her see it.

Every lie he had told her, every explanation that seemed so ridiculous as to not stand up to even the barest scrutiny, had been because he was saving someone's life. The Arrow, the hero the city needed, was Oliver Queen. And if she did nothing else, if she accomplished nothing else, she would make sure he understood the hero he was. He had gone through hell for five years, and she was understanding more and more what that hell looked like for him.

And then, like a thunderbolt, she heard him say he knew she hated him. This was a lie. She couldn't hate him. In a million futures, in a million possible universes, she could never hate him. She loved him. And she was going to tell him.

And just as she was about to, Felicity Megan Smoak bopped her way into the room and the moment was gone. But then, just as quickly, a little sliver of hope entered. Apparently, he was telling everyone how gorgeous she was. But not just that. He had apparently been saying how he had been her home for the 5 years he was on that island, the thing that had kept him from her.

She knew what she had to do then. Whatever this plan was, she would follow it. And while she was there, she would tell Oliver she loved him.

_**The next night…**_

They both had to admit, walking onto this massive yacht called the "Streets of Monaco", that John Diggle's skills as a clothier and quartermaster were the equal rival to those of a bodyguard. While only Oliver was walking onto the yacht armed, a custom-made collapsible compound bow in one pocket and a 48-arrow quiver in the other, both were wearing clothes suited for a night in Monte Carlo. Oliver's suit was made out of the finest Egyptian silk, black with jade-green outlines, and fitted to his body perfectly. Laurel was wearing a black Givenchy cocktail dress that gave her freedom to move and run should she need it, as everyone agreed that the chances of this going perfectly were infinitesimal at best.

"Well…. This is a lot" she said, utterly stunned at the needless wealth and opulence around her. How many food programs for the poor could this have funded, she thought? How many good works could have been started, continued, or finished with the money that this one criminal had used to make a perfect representation of Monte Carlo?

"It really is. You wonder what could have been done with this money. What people could have used it for instead of this. How many people could have gotten themselves out of poverty. It's why he has to fall" growled Oliver, in a tone that did _**THINGS **_to her.

Walking up to the check-in table, handing their ID's over to the security guard, Laurel glanced at her phone. Looking like she was checking e-mails, she was actually reading the cliff's notes of the plan they were expecting to follow. As she was doing that, though, her blue eyes twinkled with joy as she decided to fire off a quick text to the phone she knew her date for the night had brought.

"Are we going dancing? I'd like to go dancing with you" said Laurel, punctuating the sentence with a flirty winking emoji.

"Seriously? You can tell me this face-to-face instead of texting" typed back Oliver, and she had to hold in a chuckle as she could imagine hearing that in his now-typical growl.

"To answer your question…. Yes, we can go dancing. I'd think that would be a good cover" said Oliver, and she rolled her eyes at this. Why didn't he get that she just _**WANTED **_to dance with him, not for the mission? But just to be able to dance with him again.

(Oliver's POV)

Why was she distracting him with talk of dancing? Was this some plot to draw him in, and then tell him the truth about how she hated him?

Unsure of what else to do, he responded to her text by simply answering as though it were a way to get into character for their mission. This was starting to get confusing, and if there was anything he hated, it was confusion.

And so, after signing in, he found himself being dragged towards a dance floor. Looking around, he hoped for his bodyguard John Diggle to rescue him from this, to need him to go over the plan one more time. But he stood aside, scanning the room for threats and keeping his hand on his familiar Glock 19 that is loaded with rubber bullets for maximum efficacy and minimum lethality. Simply put, if anyone wanted to try and fuck with John Diggle's principal tonight, they would learn rather quickly the depths of the foolishness of that idea.

And, to be quite honest, he was happy about that. Lord knows, his night job required him to take enough risk. Doing it during the daytime seemed foolish.

At this moment, though, he didn't enjoy it. Not one bit. The trap was set. He couldn't have avoided it. What was left of his heart, of the part of him that craved love and knew Laurel was the only place he was ever going to truly find it, was about to be crushed.

Which is why what happened next startled him.

"Ollie, look at me" said Laurel, as she grabbed his hand and took him on the dance floor. "I know you think I hate you, for going on that boat with Sara. The truth is, I don't hate you. For those first few years, I did. I raged at the idea of you going on a cruise with my sister. But when you came back, I knew I still loved you. Every lie you've ever told me, every completely nonsensical thing, was because you were saving someone's life. Ollie, how do you think I could hate someone who does that?"

And because he knew his mouth wasn't going to work, he smiled and hugged her close. She didn't hate him. She loved him. And she loved the Arrow. For all of his life, no matter how long it was, he would live in the sunshine of that knowledge.

So they danced the tango. They danced the waltz. And then, because things in his life always ended up this way, the croupier at one of the roulette tables got a little handsy. The night ended with Jason McDaniel having an arrow in his foot, the croupier laid out from a high kick by Laurel, and the yacht being stormed by Interpol.

It was a perfect night.


End file.
